I’m always looking for fun, unusual containers in which to display my flowers. Consignment and antique shops have proven to be such great resources. I snatched this black hat off the shelf for $5. Later I set a bowl with water inside and arranged Chamomile willy-nilly.
Other containers I found- an antique wooden bowl with lavender (top left), an artist’s model clings to a single stem of hydrangea (top right), a tiny hand-painted cup with just enough room for a garden rose (bottom left) and a vintage Pyrex carafe to hold peonies.
(Photos- Martha Browne)
“Go into the most scruffy, unkempt, impoverished manor house in any part of England, and you will find an abundance of cut flowers in almost every room. While mice eat the books and mushrooms grow out of the paintings, flowers- on the piano, in the window, on the sideboard- hold up their heads in defiance of fate.” – ‘ English Country’ by Caroline Seebohm & Christopher Simon Sykes, 1987.
This quote captures the enthusiastic embrace of flowers which comes with the warm weather. I don’t know about you but this spring couldn’t come fast enough. I’m planning to fill my clay pots with all kinds of herbs and bring in garden flowers to arrange around our new home. I hope you’ll find some spring inspiration in the pages of my latest issue of ‘The Country Mouse.’
(Photo- Martha Browne)
Life doesn’t always turn out the way you plan. Seven years ago I would never have imagined we’d sell our 19th century farmhouse and move away. But due to unforeseen circumstances my husband and I are leaving the southeast. What’s that old adage…when one door closes another one opens? So, we’re taking a deep breath and crossing the threshold of a new door.
(Instagram photos of our farmhouse- Martha Browne)
#36- Nature- ‘On Animals’ by Susan Orlean, 2021.
“We went to the farm one last time to clear it out for the new owners. It was a hard goodbye. I’d always dreamed that someday I would have animals all around me, in the house, in the yard, watching me in the garden, dotting the landscape, crowing in the morning, lowing in the moonlight, barking at the wind, and I had had that there. I had reveled in the animals’ friendship and their strangeness; the way they are so obvious and still mysterious; their colors and textures, their fur and feathers; the sounds and smells of their presence. I liked the way their needs set the rhythm of every day, and how caring for them felt elemental and essential. Living among them, as I had on the farm, was just as satisfying as I imagined it would be.
When the house was emptied, I took one last walk around. As I made my way through the trees and across the fields and down to where the coop had been, I collected a few things that could remind me of the farm forever and perhaps betoken some place in my future that would feel the way it had: a piece of quartz, a pine cone, a knob of moss, and one perfect chicken feather.”
Note- My husband and I have recently sold our own farm and are in the midst of packing up our belongings. Our emotions are raw. The hardest thing for me was knowing my donkeys were not taking the journey with us and the new owners had no interest in them. I called every person I knew and didn’t know until I found some compassionate people to adopt them. The donkeys are still here until the trailer and its driver come. I picture it in my mind how painful that day will be. How frightened they will be in the confinements of the trailer. And how I will cry watching them depart.
(Photos- Martha Browne)
The Classics c. 1910-1920
Note– Photo by Swedish photographer John Alinder from this book.
…’Cyclops’ by Albert Watson, 1994.